


Period.

by Hoodoo



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, F/M, Horror-ish, Implied Sexual Content, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7182101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juuzou has a relationship with an unnamed female. Maybe you? If you can get passed some odd kinks . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Period.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Juuzou. He's my favorite character from Tokyo Ghoul. But it can be difficult to remember, I think, that he is not a normal person. Not only was he was raised and trained by two organizations to kill, and he is a eunuch. No matter how much he may wish to be a 'real' man, a person who is functioning member of society, someone who can relate to people on a personal level, that may be out of his reach. This is a tiny exploration of some of the more . . . (unusual? disturbing?) . . . activities he may be aroused by.

Juuzou’s hair was soft. It was downy and pale, and she loved to feel it between her fingers. The hair on his arms and legs was just as pale. He had no facial or chest hair. Some scant strands hid under his arms, and there were even fewer in his pubic area.

He let her pet him, and occasionally make loose plaits on his head because it seemed to please her.

He didn’t care that she adored his hair, or lack thereof. He didn’t care that she loved the color of it. It was just nice that someone touched him gently.

He never initiated contact with her.

He would reciprocate touching, however. He learned to mirror her strokes and caresses.

When he first learned that she liked his company, he tried to understand it. He couldn’t. He was always outside looking in, blending into the human world by practice only, not because it was innate. He did what he needed to do so he could survive, just as he did under the thumb of Big Madam.

He was very good at blending in, he thought.

But some of it—fingers touching a shoulder, holding hands, casually slipping an arm around another’s waist, kissing—made no sense. Skin to skin contact didn’t mean anything to him, except that another being was so close they could do him serious harm, or he could do serious harm to them.

Still, in efforts to look normal, to _be_ normal, Juuzou quelled his fear and anxiety and allowed her to lay her hands on him. He allowed her to weave her fingers between his as they walked, and only tensed up a little each time. When she thought their relationship progressed further, he allowed her to undress him and even—horror and dismay!—put her _mouth_ on him.

She misinterpreted his tremble. The response of feeling moist lips and a tongue leaving trails along his body was shock, not anticipation.

He had no real stirrings of desire. Along with parts of his anatomy, that had been crushed before it had a chance to bloom, when he’d been younger. But his body was still wired; nerve-endings still tingled and responded, although not quite as fevered as they may have in a whole man.

She didn’t seem to mind. Juuzou lost his virginity to her, even if he didn’t orgasm and the moderately hard erection he’d managed wilted as soon as she climbed off of him.

He never achieved orgasm, even when she used her mouth. It felt good, but the combination of low testosterone—he knew, academically, what he was missing; he’d had counseling sessions where he’d been taught what that meant, but had always declined pills and injections to help restore some possible function because he saw no point—plus the fact that he could feel the suggestion of her teeth made the chance of his reaching climax slim.

He continued the relationship with her because that’s what people did. He continued to learn what pleased her, and what was expected. It seemed to work well.

He expected sex tonight. There was a slight pattern to when she would initiate her wanting to be intimate. It never came, however. It confused him and he asked why not—not because _his_ libido suddenly jump-started, but because he had studied _her_ —and finally, she told him she was having her period.

She said she knew it would be unpleasant for him, which proved he’d done more to learn about her than she attempted to do about him.

Having never heard this excuse before, Juuzou pressed her for clarification. When told she had cramps, he thought back on what medical information he’d picked up, and offered a cool compress. It was declined. When told she was bleeding too much, countless battles flashed though his head. Bleeding needed stopped. Too much meant death.

She tried to insist that she didn’t want to tonight, but he asked repeatedly and, again misinterpreting him, she finally agreed.

He wasn’t much of a man, but he was stronger due to his lifestyle. He reasoned that her blood loss must make her weak. He stripped her of her pants and underthings. There was a red blot in her panties. Blood smeared on her inner thighs and her pubic hair. It wasn’t bright, arterial blood. It wasn’t the color of blood from veins. It was darker, thicker. Clotted, almost.

Fascinated, he slipped two fingers into her. She arched her back, and he couldn’t tell if it was from pain or pleasure. It was hard for him to separate the two in his mind. When he removed them, slick and dripping, she made a little sound, so he did it again, then again. She continued to moan, and cried out in disappointment when he stopped. He examined the wet that covered his fingers.

It smelled like blood, and not like blood at the same time. Juuzou had rummaged through human’s innards and ghoul’s innards and had exhaustive familiarity with blood of both types, but this was different. This was . . . something new.

He licked it.

Throughout his life he’d had enough blood in his mouth that it had become . . . if not a welcome taste, then one that he didn’t mind, because it was accustomed to it. Fresh or coagulated, he could tell human from not, and both types re-opened different memories, like scarred wounds, in his mind.

This blood, however, _this blood_ was caught between two species. Not as vibrant as a human’s, not as thick and viscous as a ghoul’s, this blood that leaked out of her riveted him and electrified him like nothing before when he’d been with her.

As if his fingers were lollies, he sucked them until clean. He dipped his tongue into her folds and the taste filled his mouth.

It was intoxicating.

She made some noise, but between her thighs he couldn’t determine what exactly the word was. He licked and lapped and held her with a tight grip that would leave bruises while she squirmed. He surprised himself with the gasp and moan that escaped his throat. By the constriction of his pants, he was also amazed to discover he had an erection.

Finally he had to stop: for air and because she was clean. Panting for breath, Juuzou lifted his head up from between her legs. He could feel the wet on his cheeks and, indecently, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He knew it spread the red instead of removing it, which typically he didn’t do because he had learned disturbed people. But he felt an odd combination of sated and lazy, and at this moment, didn’t care.

Coming out of the unexpected frenzy, he didn’t know what her reaction may be.

His scarlet eyes caught hers. She took the side of his face, pushed her fingers through his hair—hair that he could tell had not been spared, red soaked the strands—and smiled down at him over the plane of her stomach.

He didn’t know everything about human culture. He was still studying, still adapting, still blending in. What he just did didn’t seem quite right, it seemed like nothing he’d learned through interactions and passive observation; it seemed closer to a ghoulish activity.

It straddled the human and ghoul’s world.

He couldn’t be part of either, but if she would permit him this unusual inclination, it would allow him to believe he was truly human, truly a man.

_fin._


End file.
